


Roads are my Home

by ThroneofMist



Series: History is Dead and Gone [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Comfort, M/M, Pining, Requited Unrequited Love, Slow Burn, mutual pining but we only see George's side, probably no angst because we're here for the fluff for once, they finna kill the ender dragon, they're on an adventure boys, they're popping off, they're teenagers and they're happy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:00:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28534791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThroneofMist/pseuds/ThroneofMist
Summary: George followed two boys halfway across the world for a chance at an adventure, the chance for something bigger, the chance to be a legend. A year later, he finds himself still beside those two boys, working in a bakery and falling more in love with the city around him. And with one of the boys by his side. So of course, when he asks George if he's finally coming to slay the Ender Dragon with him, to become legends, George says yes. Because George would follow him to the end of the earth if he asked. All he had to do was ask.He wanted to hide his face in Dream’s, and the blond boy would hide his in George’s, and no one would ever see them ever again.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: History is Dead and Gone [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1937527
Comments: 43
Kudos: 98
Collections: Cleo's Ultimate Guide to Fanfiction





	1. In the Summer Silence

**Author's Note:**

> hullo again if you're from my other stories, hope you enjoy this one too :D
> 
> so a little background note if you have no idea what this series is or who I am, this story is a backstory for the dt in my dsmp series. you don't have to have read it to read this as this is just a cute little dnf story (but you can if you'd want to ;)) 
> 
> the only background info you need is that George met Dream and Sapnap when he was fifteen in his village in a spruce forest, and they asked him to join them on their quest to kill the ender dragon. he accepted, but before they could finish their quest, Dream received a letter from his family saying his sister was ill so Sapnap and George followed him back to their home city. this fic takes place a year later when they are sixteen and will tell the story of them killing the dragon and George and Dream falling in love :D

Life was simple for George in the citadel. With its burning sun that surprised him every day, with the sea you could hear in the dead of night, with its waves like soft kisses against skin. He bought fish, read books, taught himself how to play the guitar that Sap had given him for his sixteenth birthday.

He worked in the bakery that was nestled in-between towering townhouses, with a rickety ladder up to the storehouse where the wheat and sugar slept, and an oven that he’d burned his fingers on more times than he could count. He washed the flour off his face each evening, hands less like a wilted flower and more like fresh milk under water. He slept in the apartment he rented out for himself.

A small space with one bed, a desk and a bath. The morning light shone in through his window like cream. A guitar lay against a pile of books; ones he’d bought, one’s that Sapnap threw at him as he declared that reading bored him, one’s that had silently ended up on the pile that he recognised from Dream’s bookshelf.

It was warmer than his life back in the village chained by soaring, imposing trees with branches that scratched at the skin and roots that tugged on your ankles. He’d left because of the promise of adventure, the promise of his name embroidered against the throats of story tellers for years to come. But he’d received clear, sunlit domesticity instead. And he didn’t mind that.

“Mornin’ Georgie.” He blinked up to meet dark eyes drowsed in sleepiness as Sapnap leaned on the counter, head in his hands.

He rolled his eyes at Sapnap as he slid his unfinished mug of coffee towards his friend. Sapnap cradled it in his hands, shooting George a grateful smile before the boy turned back to the dough he was preparing. “Why are you up so early?” George asked the third time Sapnap tried to supress a yawn into the crook of his elbow.

The clanking of metal drew George’s attention to the bag sitting at Sapnap’s feet.

It was thick duffle bag, and looked surprisingly well packed by Sapnap standards. George frowned at the sleeping mat rolled up neatly on the outside, wrapped in fabric to try and outstand weather. What the hell did he have a bag like that for?

It wasn’t like Sapnap had anything to do. He never had anything to do, could run off wherever his teenage desires called him to. He had his studies that he had to attend, and that was pretty much it. That’s what came with being an aristocrat, George supposed. Doing whatever the hell you wanted.

It was an uncrossable bridge, their backgrounds. George didn’t talk much about his home. About the village trapped by rings and rings of trees. Trees so thick you could barely see the mountains that peeked above the brushing fir. Houses small and spread out, not like the rows and rows of sandstone townhouses of the citadel. When he’d first arrived, trailing behind Dream and Sapnap, he’d thought it looked like all the houses were stacked on top of each other, and had wondered when they would topple and fall.

So, he didn’t speak much of his childhood, of his parents and siblings he’d left behind. And Dream and Sapnap didn’t talk much about their families. Didn’t bring up how their fathers had been commanders in armies. How they had fought in wars and now they were looked towards for decisions, how their opinions mattered. How their houses could fit ten of George’s flats inside. How they shared lessons with private tutors, didn’t bring up how they could easily sneak out of the window easily anyway.

And when they did, an awkward silence would coat them, uncomfortably licking at George’s skin as Sapnap and Dream would share a sheepish look. It had been over a year since he’d followed them here, since they had somehow become an inseparable trio, and they still hadn’t figured out how to cross that barrier. Especially not when it got too serious, too scary, and they couldn’t pretend like it didn’t matter. Like Sapnap and Dream’s families didn’t expect things, didn’t want things. Didn’t want too much.

_They were sitting in George’s flat, Dream sitting on his window ledge, George absently flicking through a book on his bed, as they waited for Sapnap to appear. It was the day after Dream’s sixteenth birthday, and since he’d had to celebrate with his family the whole day, they were going all the way down to the beach today, just the three of them._

_Dream was picking at the picnic basket George had packed, the wooden plaits fraying in his knobbly fingers. “They want me to marry.”_

_George looked up from his book, brows raised so high it almost hurt. “What?” he asked, feeling a little breathless as he pushed himself up, so he was sitting straight, knees awkwardly knocking._

_“They want me to marry into some family across the sea,” Dream shrugged. He wouldn’t make eye contact with George, kept his pale-yellow eyes firmly towards the waves lapping at the shore._

_“And you’re going to? Just like that?” George asked, voice coming out harsher, more judgmental and crueller than he meant. He almost regretted it when Dream turned to meet his eyes, lips tugging down into a scowl, eyes flashing in irritation. Almost._

_“I didn’t say what I was going to do,” he hissed, nostrils flaring. George shrugged, waiting, letting his book fall from his hands. “I’ll figure it out,” Dream murmured, jaw locking._

_George snorted, and maybe it was a bit harsh, a bit brutal, because Dream just looked at him, a bit betrayed and a bit hurt. But then Sapnap was shoving the door open and Dream was plastering that fucking smile on his face and everything seemed to slip away into the waves down, down, down below._

“He didn’t tell you then,” Sapnap sighed, voice snapping George out of the memory from a couple months ago. He’d heard nothing more of it, and he couldn’t tell if Dream had managed to end it, or if he was just refusing to tell George and Sapnap. Or maybe it was just George he wasn’t telling, he thought to himself as his eyes slid towards his friend.

He watched, brows knotting together, as Sapnap dropped his head onto the wooden surface, not even reacting when it landed with a dull thud.

“Tell me what?” George demanded, leaving the dough to elbow Sapnap’s skull. “Who hasn’t told me _what_?” Sapnap grunted, but before he could answer properly, the door was being thrown open, wood hitting the wall.

“Good morning!” Dream stepped over the threshold with open arms and a wide smile that threatened to undo George, muscle by muscle and tooth by tooth. He bit his bottom lip as he watched Dream jump down the stairs, taking them two at a time.

He wasn’t the awkward looking, short boy he’d met two years ago anymore. He was tall, a couple of inches taller than George now, and he’d grown into his lean body. It looked purposeful, sculptured, rather than difficult and lanky. He moved with grace, with an unwavering confidence that surprised George every time.

George had fallen in love with the way Dream moved. Had fallen in love with every single tiny piece of the boy. He thought he maybe had loved him since they’d first met, when Dream had ambushed him where he stood, and George had watched helpless in the face of him. He thought he’d maybe loved him before they met, before George had understood anything. Because loving Dream felt like the most natural thing he could do. It felt like the only thing he could do. Like he wasn’t even really doing it.

And Dream didn’t know, didn’t know of the festering feelings in George’s soul which were somehow both revolting and withering, his heart like a fruit withering up and dying, juice pitifully streaming down the sides, and also necessitous and ethereal. He thought that it might be the only thing that got him up in the soft mornings, like George could let his body tumble to the deepest parts of their ocean and he would somehow live still.

And Dream didn’t know but that was okay. Because George had locked his feelings away, in unsaid words and touches he didn’t dare reach out and take. He would have this, have Dream as his friend, as his closest friend, and that would be alright. Even if Dream’s family made him marry a girl far, far, far across the sea.

“Alright,” George frowned, gesturing to the two bags Dream had thrown on each shoulder, twins to Sapnap’s. “What the fuck is happening?” He watched as Dream grinned at Sapnap, who just winced, burying his head in his arms again as if he could block everything out.

“We’re going on an adventure, George.” And he said it so wonderfully, so perfectly with his slight, lazy drawl that he had to his words that George would have been perfectly fine if he could just listen to that for the rest of his life. If he could have those words all to himself. If he could have Dream’s voice, the way Dream said George’s voice like it mattered, pronouncing every syllable like it was important to him. If he could just keep that in his palm for the rest of his life, he was pretty sure he would be alright. Even if sometimes the idea of kissing Dream's words away was so suffocating, George thought he was dying.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“We’re going to kill the dragon,” Dream said simply. Like it was simple, like it was easy. Like everything came easy to him: feelings, people, money. Like the earth merely revolved around him, bending down to each of Dream’s whims. George wouldn’t have been surprised if it did. Afterall, he was the commander of that charge.

“We’re _what_?” George scoffed, but it lacked the mocking intention he meant. The eagerness, the willingness to follow, slipped from his tongue anyway.

“George, we’ve been waiting for a year now. I’m done waiting. Fuck that, we’re going now.” He paused, eyes flicking up to meet George’s. Waiting for an answer. Even though he already knew. He must’ve already known, known that George would do whatever he asked of him.

George liked to read, had liked to read since he was a child. But no matter how many books he flicked through, fingers breathing over thousands and thousands of words, there was always something missing, something empty and drifting in his chest. And so, he kept reading, kept searching for that feeling he was so sure he would find hidden, buried away in words. But then he met Dream, and his eyes held more than all the print he had read in his life. He found that feeling of living, breathing without any restraints, in Dream’s eyes.

“Are you coming?”

“Yes,” George breathed, without thinking. His hands left the soft dough, and he tried to ignore all the thoughts in his head telling him to stop and think. He ignored the thoughts as he scrawled out a note for the baker, adding that he knew he’d probably be fired if he ever returned but he was thankful for the days he had had to himself, surrounded by flour and chives.

And then Sapnap was grabbing his hand, strong fingers soft and warm as he tugged George outside. Dream dropped his second bag onto George’s bag, tousling his hair. He didn’t speak much as Dream hurried him and Sap through the city, weaving in and out of the early morning crowd of people purchasing fish from the market, and mothers hurrying their children towards the schoolhouse.

He brushed his fingers over the city’s walls as they left, the fresh and roaring wind kissing at his neck and brushing itself through his hair. The sandstone scratched as his skin before he let go, following after his two friends down the windy path towards everywhere else in the world.

They bought three horses from one of the farms that lay at the bottom of the citadel, George watching as Dream tossed the farmer a pouch that clinked in his fingers. And then they were off, the smell of the salt and the wind and the sandstone getting further and further away as they rode off towards their fate.

They passed towns with looming churches of cobble and crowds of people milling through the streets, children and groceries and washing in their hands as George and his horse cut through their everyday lives, cut through the quotidian. The towns they rode through turned to villages, and they saw less and less people as their horses snorted under them, shaking their heads. They passed shepherds guiding their flocks, dogs sprinting through fields with their tongues flying out of their mouths.

“I still don’t get why neither of you told me earlier,” George said after a couple hours of riding, combing his fingers through his horse’s wiry mane. A flock of birds flew overhead, like pieces of burnt paper blowing through the sky.

“Don’t ask me,” Sapnap snorted from where he rode beside George, gesturing with his head towards Dream who was a bit in front of them, studying the map in his hands as his white horse trotted lazily across the gravel road.

“I think he thought you wouldn’t come,” Sapnap shrugged. “Or that you’d try and stop us or whatever.”

“I followed the two of you halfway across the world when I was fifteen for this,” George said as Sapnap looked to him. Judging by the wideness of his dark eyes, George figured it wasn’t just Dream who had been questioning George. “Why would I try and stop you?”

“You had a job, a flat. Responsibilities.” Sapnap said, pushing his tongue into his cheek. “We can get up and leave at the drop of a hat with little consequences. It’s different for us, I guess.”

“I’m surprised your parents were fine with it, actually,” George snorted, thinking about Sapnap’s parents and the way Sapnap merely laughed at dinners when they would ask how his studies were going. Sapnap’s parents were strict, but there was love behind the chastising, care behind the way his mother would tug on his collar when it was askew.

Sapnap’s family was kind and had welcomed George in with open arms. Sure, they’d been surprised when another fifteen-year kid had turned up on their doorstep last year, but his mother had just blinked before she smiled, ruffling Sapnap’s hair before she told him to introduce George.

“I swear there was only two of you when you left, Nick,” his father had said, cocking his head at George before inviting him in for lunch. They even offered to let him stay until he found his feet in the city, which is why George ended up sleeping on Sapnap’s floor for a month.

He liked Sapnap’s family. They had treated him like one of their own, and he didn’t think he’d ever be able to repay their kindness. They also weren’t goddamn tyrants like Dream’s family were.

_George looked up from his guitar when a soft thud sounded from behind him. He glanced over his head, fingers stilling on the strings to meet a pair of cunning, amused, yellow eyes._

_He was sitting in the inner courtyard of his apartment, fingers in a basket as he leaned against a tree. It was only accessible through the buildings, surrounded by tall sandstone walls on every side, and yet here Dream somehow was. Perched on a wall like a cat, grinning down manically at George._

_He watched as Dream leaped from the wall into the tree George was sitting under, disappearing amongst the leaves._

_“What the-” Before he could finish his sentence, the gate to the courtyard was being thrown open, and a woman wearing a scowl was storming in, scanning the area before her eyes fell on George. The tips of her lips tugged up into a slight sneer. George ignored it._

_She was beautiful, with long blond hair pulled back into a loose braid and a small, upturned nose. She was beautiful, but she was cold against the summer sun, stern against George’s soft strumming on his guitar. “Have you seen him?” she asked, voice strained, as if it pained her to speak to George. “Nick said_ you _were here, and I assumed he would…” she trailed off, as if she didn’t want to believe that what she was saying was true._

_“Seen who?” He didn’t back down from her, never had, not caring for her scowls and eye twitches._

_“Clay,” she replied sharply, her own bright-yellow eyes flicking around the courtyard. George gave a non-committed hum before he shrugged, keeping his eyes on his own fingers. He refused to meet her scornful gaze._

_“I’ve not seen him all day,” he told her, plucking away at his strings._

_“He has his studies,” she said, and he could hear the frown in her voice. “He can’t keep running off like this.”_

_“I don’t see how this has anything to do with me,” George offered, raising his brows in question as he looked up to meet her eyes. He kept playing his guitar._

_He knew Dream’s mother didn’t like him. She didn’t seem to like anyone, rolled her eyes at Sapnap, frowned at Dream. But she seemed to particularly have it out for George, like he was a pest who wouldn’t leave her son alone._

_Like it had been his fault Sapnap and Dream had run away a couple of months ago. Like he was some vermin they’d dragged back from their childish exploits._

_She left without saying anything else, jaw clenched as she let the gate slam behind her. George’s fingers paused, pressing down on the strings as he waited. Dream dropped down from the tree with a laugh. George arched a brow, watching as his friend settled down beside him, knees to his chest before he lightly elbowed him._

_His questions silently hung between them, thin and dancing as Dream met George’s eyes. He didn’t have to ask them, his words swallowed up by the look Dream shot him._

_Not know. I’ll tell you later. It’s just history, not like it’s nothing important. My tutor’s an asshole anyway. Don’t make me speak about it, because if you ask me, I won’t be able to pretend like everything’s fine._

_He didn’t say any of that, even though George could hear the words in his voice. Instead, he gestured down to the guitar resting in George’s lap and said, “Play me a song, Georgie.”_

When George was only met with silence in response, he turned his head, widening his eyes when Sapnap threw him a shit-eating grin. “You’re joking,” George deadpanned, groaning slightly when Sapnap just shrugged. “You didn’t tell them? Did he?” he asked, eyes flicking towards Dream, who was holding the map up towards the sun, head tilted.

“Nope,” Sapnap said, kissing his teeth. “They would’ve tried to stop us. We had to just go. They were so pissed when we tried it last time. Had to bide our time.”

“So, you planned it all out?” George asked, biting his bottom lip. _Without me_ , was the unspoken words that hung between the two friends.

“No,” Sapnap shook his head. “He only told me yesterday. Just said to pack my bag. He’s always been impulsive,” Sapnap added when he noticed George staring after Dream. George nodded wordlessly in response, tightening his hold on his reigns.

Dream was more impulsive than the average person, but he was also meticulous almost to a fault. He planned the smallest thing beyond carefulness, spent hours hunched over himself scrawling every single possible outcome. He was smart and resourceful, and George doubted Dream had decided to do this on a sudden whim. It just wasn’t like him. And George had spent more than a year watching, absorbing Dream’s every movement, knew the boy’s thoughts by heart.

“Could you go any slower?” Dream shouted back to them, raking a hand through his hair before he tossed his head side to side anyway, the loose strands falling in his face. “I want to cover a good amount of ground today before we have to stop.”

Sapnap snorted before he lightly kicked his horse and it took off with a start, hooves thudding rhythmically against the dirt path that seemed to stretch on forever.

George followed after them, leaning back on his horse as he glanced over his shoulder one last time. The sea had already disappeared, swallowed up by rolling fields of wheat and sparse trees dotted around. The sun was still high in the sky, hanging as if just there for the three of them, guiding them, beckoning them forward.

That night they set up their camp by a small clearing, where the grass was soft and wet, and the air was so crisp it almost hurt to breathe. George gathered firewood as Sapnap and Dream attempted to set the tent up without it collapsing in on itself.

After about an hour, they had a precarious tent set up against a small tree, a fire crackling softly and a Sapnap irritated by a mix of hunger and tiredness.

“I can take first watch,” Dream offered as Sapnap fell into the tent with a sigh, rubbing his hands over his face. George nodded wordlessly before he followed Sapnap, lugging his own bag behind him. He hadn’t properly had a chance to look over it before they left, and a sudden sense of dread seized up his throat as he realised Dream had packed it for him.

Pulling out the array of bandages, packaged food and salves from the top, he expected to see a haphazard mess of clothes that he would have to put up with for however long this took. But his lips parted in surprise as he tugged out neatly folded shirts and trousers. He traced the orderly creases with his fingers, licking his bottom lip as he held them to his chest. Dream had somehow managed to pack all of George’s favourite clothes: the ones he used to train in, to sleep in and to read in.

And there, at the very bottom, rolled up into a neat square was one of Dream’s own shirts. It was light and airy, a plain, white cotton shirt. But it felt like more. Like a promise, like a layer of Dream’s own skin was in his hands. George realised with a thick, throbbing sharpness that this would be the closest he would get to feeling Dream against himself.

He rubbed his fingers over the sleeves before he turned, going to ask Sapnap if he was hungry, when he noticed that the younger boy was already asleep. His face was planted firmly into the small pillow, hair spread out as his chest fell and rose slowly. George moved quietly, grabbing an orange from his bag before he clambered out of the tent.

Dream looked up at him as he sat down, holding the shirt out towards the blond. Instead of taking it, like George expected, Dream just looked at it, before his eyes flicked up to him. George tore his own gaze away, the feeling of Dream looking at him too much to bear and ran his fingers over the orange. His nails ran over the indents, the thick skin smooth and perfect.

“Your shirt was in my bag,” George murmured. “Thought you’d put it in there by accident.”

“No.” Dream shook his head. He said nothing else, lips firmly clapped firmly together as he nudged at the fire with a stick. George wanted to say more, but his words were swallowed down by the way Dream leaned back, head tipped towards the sky.

He turned away, rolling the orange around in his palms. He wanted to share it with him. Split it down the middle, tear it apart piece by piece. Let the scent surround them, the colour filling their skins with a sense of brightness. To say that he wanted to share with Dream. Share everything he possessed. Every movement, every breath. Wanted to be intertwined with his very being. But that was too much.

He couldn’t say that he would fall down dead for Dream, bruise his knees praying to him for reasons wretched and divine. To be so obscene, to be so honest, would be revolting. But it would all be true.

George looked to his side, meeting pale yellow eyes and stretched out his open palm in offering. Dream raised a brow, eyes twitching down to the soft, round, unblemished orange in George’s hand. “Want to share?”

Dream nodded and thanked him when George dropped half of the fruit into Dream’s hand. Their fingers brushed, the sweet juice sliding down George’s fingers, dripping softly onto Dream’s. His breath caught in his throat as Dream sucked at his tanned fingers, catching the juice before it spread anywhere else.

“So,” George started, stretching his legs outwards as he chewed on the orange slices slowly, unlike Dream who shoved the whole thing in his mouth. “What’s the plan?”

Dream hummed in soft, beautiful amusement as he swallowed, throat moving gracefully. The orange stuck in George’s own throat for forever as he watched Dream from behind the flames of their small fire. Watched as Dream scratched at his arm, twisting as he pushed his tongue into his cheek. The skin of Dream’s arm was paled underneath, the blue veins of his wrists like a map. Like a map that was forbidden for George, unreadable and unattainable. Even though he was certain that was his only destination.

He had the same veins in his throat, smooth as apple blossom. They were untouched bar Dream’s own fingers as he ran his hand down his neck, thumb grazing the soft, blue blush under his skin. George thought that was a crime, leaving those veins unkissed.

“I’m sorry,” Dream said after a moment of silence. “For not telling you before. It’s not that I don’t trust you, I just…” his voice trailed off, and he glared down at his fingers, as if he was angry at himself for being unable to find the words.

“It’s alright,” George said for him, offering a soft smile. “I understand,” he added when Dream’s eyes, confetti of gold and orange from the fire reflecting in them, flicked up to meet his. The heaviness seemed to leave the other boy’s shoulders, and he nodded, clearing his throat.

“We need ender pearls, obviously,” Dream said as he tugged out the creased map from inside his coat.

“Obviously,” George murmured as he shuffled closer to get a better look at the map. Dream stilled, fingers twitching on the parchment before he laughed, like George had said something funny.

“And we also need to go the Nether,” Dream sighed, and George followed as one long finger pointed at an inky, red mark on the map. “Apparently there’s a portal’s here.”

“How do you know?” George asked as Dream tapped his fingers along the map.

“ _Technoblade_ ,” he muttered bitterly, and George had to bite down on a laugh. Technoblade lived in the small town below their city and had already made a name for himself throughout this side of the world. A warrior, strong beyond belief. Ruthless and silent, they said he was a weapon in of himself.

George couldn’t help but see him as the grumpy brother to Wilbur, the boy who came into his bakery every week to buy bread on a Sunday and ended up speaking to George for the whole day as he helped sprinkle salt over all the produce.

But Dream despised Technoblade. Because the other boy was everything Dream craved to be. Because Technoblade was free to do as he wished, not chained by responsibility and status like Dream. He could move as he wished, there was no consequences for where his tracks went. If he didn’t let his idea of Technoblade be distorted by obscene jealousy, George thought that Dream would get along with the other boy. Be friends even. But maybe that was a push.

“He told you?” George asked, arching a brow as he lightly elbowed his friend.

“I asked him,” Dream sighed, eyes flickering over the map on his lap. “I know he’s been to the Nether before. He didn’t even ask for anything in return.”

“That’s nice,” George commented absently as he watched the fire send light flitting across the skin where Dream’s nose met his brows. He resisted the urge to reach up and brush the pad of his fingers across it.

“No,” the other boy scoffed. “Now I’m _indebted_ to him.” He said it with such a seriousness that George couldn’t help the giggle that escaped his lips as he shook his head in disbelief. Dream turned to face him, and even though his brows were lowered in annoyance, the tips of his lips quirked up into a half smile.

“You’re so dramatic,” George said through a yawn.

“You should get some sleep,” Dream replied, and then he was turning to face the fire again, resuming the task of poking at it with a branch coated in moss. George just hummed in agreement before he stood, chucking the skin of the orange into the flames and watching as it was swallowed whole before he started towards the tent. Sapnap’s soft snoring welcomed him.

“Goodnight Dream,” he called back, the shirt still tight in his fists.

“Night George,” came the seemingly meaningless response. But George held the words tightly in his mind, replayed them over and over again. The way Dream never rushed his words, said them like he had all the time in the world to speak, said them like people should listen to what he had to say, even if it was only two words. Like George should listen to what he had to say.

He glanced down at the shirt as he crouched to drop down beside Sap, the fabric soft against his fingers. He debated putting it on now, less so to feel what it felt like flush against his skin, and more so to see what Dream might say the next morning. But George wasn’t fearless, wasn’t bold. He wasn't like Dream. So, he just shoved the shirt back in his bag, and tried to forget that it was there.

Sapnap rolled over towards him as soon as George lay down onto his back, lips parted and drool dripping down his face. Rolling his eyes, George elbowed Sapnap around again, ignoring the boy’s sleepy objections. And then he let his own eyes shut and tried to think about anything other than Dream sitting outside, fingers sticky with orange juice as he poked at a fire, the key to their future folded up in his coat pocket.


	2. Flowing Through my Veins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Wear your heart on your skin in this life.”

After a week of travelling, George realised that the stars were very quiet. They sat silently in the sky and shone, but they would never answer when he reached up with his fingers. Beautiful and cold and so very distant. He wondered if things were only beautiful from afar.

Like the sea they had left behind, soft and blue as it was from his window. Whispering against the sand, singing to the golden cliffside as it painted the moonlight in its waves. But then close up, screaming cold against feet, as if it wanted nothing more than to drag him in, to bury him beneath its waves, wait until his pale skin suffocated and turned the same blueish hue as the very thing that killed him.

Maybe things were more beautiful when they were blurry, hazed and masked by the idea of it. When the truth of it was hidden.

George blinked down when Dream murmured in his sleep, throat bobbing as he watched his friend shuffle around under his thin blanket, turning to face George. His lips were parted, his soft cupid’s bow chapped and cracked from the cold. His skin looked soft, even the blots of red that were scattered around his jaw from where he sometimes scratched it absently. His nose crunched up in his sleep, twitching as he buried his face into the crook of his arm. The pale skin of the back of his neck gleamed up at George.

He took to biting on his nails as he watched, resisting the urge to reach out. He lay on his back, Dream’s soft breath hitting his neck. Every day, George woke up with springs of dust in his blood and a yearning in his blood that he couldn’t quite seem to get rid of. He wondered if he would ever get rid of it. The feeling he got when Dream so much as looked at him, pale eyes moving with the wind itself.

A yawn murmured, Dream’s eyes fluttering. George pushed himself up before the boy lying beside him could wake up, scrambling out of the tent quickly. Sapnap was sitting outside, hair loosely tied back, a dark strand swaying in front of his face.

“Where’d you get that?” George asked as he rubbed at his eyes with the palms of his hands. Sapnap grinned easily, George raising a brow at the fish he was cooking over a small, open fire.

“Went fishing,” Sapnap said, gesturing with his head out to the lake that lay out before them. They had camped beside the water to avoid the midgies, but the soft lull of lapping waves against the banks had kept George awake the whole night. He stifled a yawn as he dropped down beside Sapnap, letting his head drop onto the other boy’s knee.

“We’re halfway to the portal,” George said as he met the dead fish’s eyes. It gawked back at him, glazed over and empty. Like smoke under glass.

“Really?” Sapnap laughed. “Shit, man.” George nodded in agreement, Sapnap’s bone digging into his temple. He didn’t move, letting his eyes shut as Sapnap’s laugh rocked through his tired body. He liked the warmth, liked remembering there were other people. People who liked him, cared about him. Sometimes it was easy to drift off, to forget other people existed in this realm, with their own thoughts and feelings and lives. Sometimes, people started becoming little paper shapes that George moved around without thought.

“Dream still not up?” Sapnap asked, huffing when George shook his head wordlessly. “Lazy fucking bastard,” he muttered, but George could hear the grin in his drawl. They fell into a companionable silence as George yawned again, eyes still shut as Sapnap started to card his fingers through his matted hair.

He had never been one for physical affection, but then he’d met Sapnap, and with each hug or playful elbow to the side or the thing Sap liked to do when he’d drop his head onto George’s shoulder and end up blowing hot breath onto his neck until George would laugh with him, George had minded less and less.

So, he let Sapnap run his fingers through his hair as he prodded at the fish with his other hand, as George tried not to let himself fall asleep on his friend’s knee. The wind kissed at his face, brushing up against his ankles and his neck and his ears. He listened to the murmurings of the lake, the way it sang along with the crackling of the soft, childish flames of their fire. The soft murmurings of their horses from where they were leashed, teeth clicking together as they spoke amongst themselves.

“Hey, George?” Sapnap asked after a while. He hummed in response. Silence followed, but it wasn’t the friendly one from before. George didn’t know when it had shifted, the air around them becoming stiffer. Sapnap’s fingers stilled in his hair. “Are you ever going to tell Dream?”

George’s eyes flashed open so quickly it was almost painful. He jerked away from Sapnap, lump in his throat as he shook his head desperately. “Tell him what?” The crack in his voice betrayed him.

Sapnap smiled, and it was a smile George hated seeing on his friend’s face. It wasn’t his usual shit-eating grin, or his lopsided smirk. It was a smile painted in beautiful, perfect pity. And George refused to accept that.

“You know,” Sapnap said quietly, as if he was scared George might burst into flames if he pushed too hard. “The truth continues on existing, even if you ignore it.” George blinked, looking away. His lips pressed together tightly as he looked at the dead fish, limply cooking for their breakfast.

“I can’t tell him,” George breathed, the words suffocating to say, to admit. They had been tattooed onto the back of his throat for about a year now, slowly but surely settling themselves into George’s bones, engraving themselves into his skin, on the underside of his arms, untouched by the air, untouched by anything.

“Why not?” Sapnap asked. George refused to look at him. He shrugged, body feeling heavy. Almost collapsing in on himself, he wrapped his arms around his knees.

“I can’t lose him as a friend.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“You don’t know that,” George snorted. He looked up when he was met with silence. Sapnap was frowning down at him, like George was somehow the most pathetic and pitiful creature he had ever met. Like he was a rabbit, screaming and bleeding out in a trap, and the best thing Sapnap could do was slit his throat. 

“You really think Dream would stop being your friend if you told him? Would hold it against you?” Sapnap shook his head in disbelief, brown hair falling from side to side, like the leaves of a willow tree swaying. “You don’t know Dream as well as you think you do then, George.”

His lips parted, partly in surprise and in annoyance as Sapnap rolled his eyes at him. “What the fuck?” he hissed, suddenly gripped by irritation as he leaned closer to Sapnap. His friend just raised a brow at him, leaning in as well, completely aloof and uncaring in response to George’s sudden anger. “Why would you say that?” he asked, hiding his desperation behind the anger leeching through his voice.

“Because it’s pathetic,” Sapnap sighed, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip.

“What is?” George demanded. He already knew the answer. Needed to hear his friend say it.

“Watching you fucking pine after him, George. For fuck’s sake,” he muttered, raking two tanned hands through his hair. Silence coated their skin, uncomfortable and unwanted. George felt tears prick at his eyes. He pushed them away, throat bobbing as he trained his eyes onto his own bare ankles, pale skin dotted and flushed.

“Good thing I didn’t ask for your fucking opinion then,” George said, but it lacked the spit he meant to force into it. It just came out weak, and sad. And he supposed pathetic, just like Sapnap had said.

He felt his friend’s gaze on him, Sapnap’s dark eyes burning holes in his skin. He refused to look up. Before either of them could say anything else, before they could do anything to even attempt to fix it, or even make it worse, Dream padded out of the tent, yawning and stretching his arms up.

“Hullo,” he grinned sleepily. George smiled, praying it didn’t come out as a grimace. Sapnap didn’t even try, sighing as he stared into the flames. Dream frowned between the two of them, staying on his feet as he lowered his arms, nose crinkling in confusion.

“Should we start off after breakfast?” Sapnap asked after a painful moment of silence.

“No,” Dream said suddenly, a lopsided grin splitting across his face. Both George and Sapnap looked up at him, both of them frowning, tired and pissed off. “I want to go swimming,” he declared, gleaming out towards the still lake.

“What, like now?” Sapnap asked, laughing in disbelief when Dream nodded eagerly. “Fuck it,” he shrugged, dropping the stick he was using to cook the fish onto the ground as he stood up, pulling his shirt off over his head.

“You coming, Georgie?” He looked up to meet pale yellow eyes, softer than usual. He clearly knew he’d been fighting with Sapnap, and he knew it was only a matter of time before one of them got interrogated about it. He didn’t know which would be the better option. Sapnap telling Dream about the pathetic feelings George was holding for him, or George breaking down when Dream demanded he tell him what was happening, gaze stern and harsh.

“It’s cold,” George whispered against his knees. He turned, head snapping towards the lake when a shriek sounded. He just managed to catch Sapnap leaping into the water, shaking his head out when he came back up to the surface.

“Come on George,” Dream said, lightly tugging on George’s wrists in an attempt to get him to stand up. He shut his eyes. He didn’t think he could take Dream saying his name one more time. It was killing him. He was dying.

“It’ll be cold,” he repeated as he opened his eyes, desperately hoping his weak excuse would stand. It didn’t. Dream just stared back at him. George sighed. Dream didn’t move his hands from where they circled his wrists.

“I’ll keep you warm.” George’s eyes flicked up to meet Dream’s, face and heart and body wide and off guarded. It was a joke. Clearly. It was always a joke. And Dream was grinning at him, teeth bright and gleaming, but his eyes were soft, unsure. And his voice hadn’t sounded amused. Had sounded sincere. Too sincere. He wondered if Dream even knew how he’d worded it. If he was even considering all the thoughts that were spitting through George’s head.

He gave a huff of laughter as he shook his head, just wanting whatever that moment had been to pass. He couldn’t deal with Dream’s whole, undivided attention on him like that. It was like looking at the sun. It burned.

“Fine, whatever,” George muttered as he let Dream haul him up onto his bare feet. He tried not to watch as Dream tugged his shirt over his head, blond hair sticking up awkwardly in every direction. Freckled hands tried to flatten it down, to no avail. George undid his own shirt, and before it had even dropped onto the grass, he was running.

He hissed as soon as his skin touched the water, hesitating as he snatched his foot back out. But before he could decide this was a bad idea, Dream was barrelling into him from behind, pulling George into the lake with him.

Screaming, the cold enveloped him so tightly, that he was almost unaware of strong arms around his chest, pulling him up to the surface with them. “You bastard,” George shouted, punching Dream in the shoulder. “It’s fucking freezing. Shit!”

Sapnap snorted from behind him, swimming on his back as he laughed at George. “Don’t be such a pussy, George.”

“Oh, fuck you,” George scowled, dunking Sapnap under the water with a grin. Sapnap just spat water in his face when he resurfaced, ignoring George’s shrieks and protests. “That’s disgusting. You’re a pig.”

The tension between them seemed to slightly settle when Dream came up in the middle, splashing them both before he hooked George’s leg with his ankle and flicked Sapnap on the nose. “I reckon I can hold my breath under the water the longest.”

“Bet,” Sapnap shot back instantly. George ran his tongue over his teeth, aware of the bait, but finding it incredibly hard to back away from it. “Bet,” he eventually echoed, something in his chest fluttering when Dream smiled at him.

“One, two, three.” They all dived down on Dream’s countdown, George screwing his eyes shut as he heaved all the air he could into his mouth. It was calming, being in the darkness and being under the surface, the water protecting him from everything, all the thoughts, Sapnap’s stupid fucking face, his own sinking heart.

When he thought he might pass out, he kicked back up to the surface, gasping for air as he blinked quickly. Dream and Sapnap both stared back at him. “Ha!” he laughed, splashing the both of them as they shared a look. “You both fucking suck,” he giggled, arms in the air victoriously. “You both lose,” he goaded, drawing out the syllables. “You’re both the-”

“You’re such a shit winner,” Dream sighed, even as laughter left his own lips, buttery eyes dancing back at George. “I demand a rematch.”

They did it until they physically couldn’t anymore, chests feeling too tight and lungs feeling too small. After that, they just splashed around, leaping onto each other’s backs with shrieks of laughter as Dream and Sapnap threw George into the water repeatedly.

When they got out, George traced his own fingers, the wrinkles from the water prominent and coarse. Blinking, he looked up as his feet met grass, throat going dry as he watched Dream laugh with Sapnap in front of him. Feeling a heat flash across his cheeks, he diverted his eyes quickly, swallowing thickly as he concentrated on shaking his own hair out.

It was the first time he’d actually managed to properly clean himself in a week, and his nose crinkled as he ran his fingers down his arm, clean skin smiling back up at him. He pulled his shirt back on, tugging at the collar as he made his way over to his horse. They’d burned the fish, he noticed as he grabbed an apple from his bag.

His horse, who he had ingeniously named Poppy after the three of them had raced through a field of wildflowers on their second day, whinnied as he approached her. She munched the apple out of his palm, teeth nicking his skin as he used his other hand to pet her head.

He watched as Dream and Sapnap packed up the tent, chucking each other pegs behind their backs and laughing too loudly when the other didn’t catch it. George just kept running his hand over Poppy’s neck, wondering who the action was more soothing for.

Sapnap tossed the burned fish onto the ground before he stamped out the fire, tossing his bags onto his horse’s back. Dream handed George his bag, and all he could offer was a singular nod of acknowledgement in thanks. He could feel Dream’s eyes on his body as he pulled himself up onto Poppy, swinging his legs as he forced himself to keep his eyes forward.

“There’s a town where we can stop tonight,” Dream said as he leapt up onto his own horse, pressing it forward beside Sapnap and George. “Sleep in an actual bed again.”

“Fucking finally,” Sapnap grinned, his hair still damp, hanging in lumps. George nodded in agreement, urging a smile to tug on his lips. He knew Dream saw right through it, saw right through him. Right into his skeleton, yellow eyes cruel and intruding. George had to look away, unable to breathe under his light.

He lightly kicked at Poppy, throwing his middle finger behind him towards his two friends as he let his arms fly in the air, hair brushing backwards in the wind as he sped Poppy forwards.

He was speed itself, he was the wind and the air that swallowed words, and everything in between.

Eventually, Sapnap and Dream caught up with him, shaking their heads in amusement before they started back on the same dirt path they’d been on for a week, riding in intimate silence. George yawned as soon as they crossed over into the town hours later, the idea of an actual mattress with pillows almost enough to turn him delusional. He tipped his head back, eyes flickering over the banners of golds and purples that were strung up between the roofs.

He sat up as they rode further into the town, Dream asking passers-by if there was an inn with a stable anywhere. They pointed him North, and he nodded politely, gesturing for Sapnap and George to follow him. There was music coming from somewhere, and George hummed along as they rode, tapping his leg along to the rhythm of the fast fiddles.

They finally found the inn, guiding their horses into the shoddily attached stable at the side of the building, shouldering their bags and filing into the building. A wooden sign hit against the brick walls in the wind, the name The Grey Lyre in peeling navy paint stared down at them as they entered.

“Room for three?” Dream asked the lady in the hall, who cast one look over them before she nodded as if she couldn’t care less, handing over a key as Dream passed over a pouch of gold. He thanked her before he started up the stairs, George and Sapnap always following behind.

“Looks like there’s some kind of festival happening out there,” Sapnap commented as George tossed his bag onto one of the beds, Dream flopping down onto his with a soft sigh. “We could check it out?” he suggested, turning away from the window with a tilted head.

George opened his mouth to object, when Dream laughed, sitting up with a grin. “If there’s alcohol, I’m down.”

And that was how George found himself sitting at a bar in a town square, cradling a pint of beer as Sapnap and Dream joined the dance circle, already slightly tipsy. “Sure you don’t want to join, Georgie?” Dream asked one last time, brow wriggling as George laughed, shaking his head and staying firmly put on his seat.

“I’ll be here when you’re done,” he told him, watching as Sapnap pulled Dream away with a snicker. His eyes didn’t leave Dream as his friends weaved in and out of the crowd, laughter ringing out over the music and the chattering people all around.

He looked divine. Under all the lights strung from building to building, golden light kissing his skin, running its fingers across his neck. He wanted him too much. Wanted him too badly, so badly it hurt to look at him.

He wanted to kiss him until he was dead, wanted to live in Dream’s head, in his lungs, in his blood. Looking at Dream was like being plunged into that lake, or like drinking cold water. It cut through his air. It was like he was having his throat constantly slashed open, choking on his own blood.

Sometimes he could only think of him with clenched teeth.

Swirling his pint, George watched with a hidden smile as Dream and Sapnap danced. They were in a group of four, partnered up with two girls, as they spun around in the massive, twirling crowd. The girl Dream was with was beautiful. Black hair that tumbled down bare shoulders, white teeth practically sparkling as she grinned up at him, head tipped back with laughter as he spun her around, arm easily looped around her waist.

She was clinging onto his arm, her skirt dancing around slender legs as Dream leaned down to whisper something into her ear. Her lips parted before she glanced up at him, a horribly familiar look painted across her face. Stomach clenching uneasily, George turned in his seat, glaring down into his glass.

The folk music was too loud against his ears, the fiddles screaming in pain and the guitar howling in grief. The lights were too bright, sending scorching burns leaping up and down his arms. Running a tired hand over his face, George downed the rest of his drink before he set the glass neatly on the bar surface, stepping down from his seat.

Walking around the edge of the dance circle, he kept his hands profusely shoved into his pockets, the mere idea of somehow being dragged into the horde of dancers sending bile rocketing up his throat. He almost made it all the way around, almost made it into the empty lane, almost made it back to their inn, where he could try his best to fall asleep and shove absolutely everything out of his head before his two friends would return stumbling.

But a shout rang out, and George knew who it was before he even turned.

His boots hit the cobbled ground as he shoved through the crowd that was now still, eyes wide as they watched on as angry bellows echoed around the square, a horrible change from the frantic jig music. He broke out of the swarm just in time to see Dream lightly guiding the woman he had been dancing with behind him. Two men were standing opposite him and Sapnap, clearly drunk by the way they swayed on their feet. But they were still much older, much wider and much taller than both of his friends.

George watched yellow eyes dart around the scene, scrutinising and searching for an escape route. Always searching for an escape route. The yellow eyes fell on him, widening slightly when George took an instinctive step forward, heart pounding uselessly against his ribs.

“We were just asking if the ladies wanted a switch in partner,” one of the men slurred, leering down at Dream as he took a step back, arms out in a placating manner. The eyes left George, snapping towards the oncoming threat. He suddenly felt bare, cold and skinned for everyone to witness.

“I understand,” Dream said slowly, and George’s whole body seized as the man flexed and unflexed his massive hand. Holy fuck. “But I don’t think they _want_ a change in partner.”

“Respectfully, I don’t think you should be speaking for them, boy.” Dream’s brows knotting in anger, jaw rolling slowly as he kept his composure. George’s feet were stuck to the ground, legs stiff and solid.

“And I think you should fuck off,” Dream grinned, cocking his head. “ _Respectfully_.”

The man lost it at that, fist flying towards Dream’s face. He managed to duck in time, rolling to the right, steering the man away from the women as he leapt back up to his feet. Before anyone could even do anything, before even Dream or the guy that was on him could move towards each other, Sapnap’s fist met the guy’s jaw. The sound at the contact was horrific, sending a scraping shiver against George’s back.

Sapnap blinked when the man barely even flinched, just turned his head towards him from Dream. A yelp of pain sounded, followed by a sickening snapping sound as Sapnap dropped onto the ground, crying out in anguish.

George moved then, terror clutching at his gut. Everything passed in a hazy blur as he reached Sapnap, shouts of protest fading in and out as he hauled his friend to his feet, trying to inspect his face as best he could in the fading light. As his cool hand met Sapnap’s flushed forehead, blood drippling down onto their shirts, he felt a hurried tug on his shoulder.

He turned, panicked and confused, to meet Dream’s face. His lips moved, but George couldn't hear what he was saying over the commotion, so he just let Dream pull him and Sapnap out of the crowd. They stumbled back into the inn, ignoring the looks the woman at the counter shot them, Dream pushing Sapnap up the stairs, George following behind. Ice wrapped in strips of fabric found its way into his hand, and he was vaguely aware of Dream calmly telling him to hold it against Sapnap’s eye.

Dream lightly but sternly sat Sapnap down on the bed, running his hands through his hair before he said something about a healing potion and across the street before he disappeared, leaving George and Sapnap alone.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” he said after the door shut behind Dream and his vision started to clear. He moved quietly, lightly pushing the ice Dream had somehow got a hold of against Sapnap’s face. He didn’t know how Dream always did that, whenever anything happened. George couldn’t help but seize up, couldn’t help but succumb to the panic that screamed through his veins. But Dream was always calm, always considerate and quick. He always knew what to do. George never knew what to do.

Sapnap snorted humourlessly, wincing when George tightened his hold on the ice on his eye. It was already melting through the fabric, dripping down George’s arm and onto Sapnap’s lap. “I mean it,” he added, shaking his head. Dark eyes drifted up to meet his.

Sapnap looked like he was going to speak, lips parting tentatively, when George hissed in irritation, groaning as the ice cracked under his grip. “For fuck’s sake. Hold this, would you?” he said under his breath as he shoved the ice into Sapnap’s own hand. He searched through his bag for any clean clothing, but the only thing he could find was the shirt Dream gave him. Hesitating, tongue darting out to nervously lick at his bottom lip, he debated using a dirty sock instead. Sapnap probably deserved it.

But then a groan sounded from behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Sap tipping his head back as he prodded at his nose with his fingers, more blood streaming into his lips. Snatching his water pouch, he made his way back over to Sapnap, kneeling in front of him. “Isn’t that-” Sapnap started to ask as George poured water over the fresh, cotton shirt.

He clamped his lips firmly together when George glared up at him. “You're fucking bleeding out everywhere, Sapnap. Do you have anything better I can use?” The bloodied man shook his head gingerly, and George let out a sharp exhale before he took the damp shirt and tried his best to clean his friend of the already congealing blood.

“I reckon you’ve broken your fucking nose.” A horrible pause of silence as George sighed, continuing to gently wipe away at the blood drying into the bridge of Sapnap’s nose. “You can’t go around punching people, Sap,” George breathed.

“The guy was being a dick,” he protested half-heartedly. George’s words caught in his breath. “Look, George,” Sapnap started, lightly pushing George’s hand away and lowering the ice away from his face. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t…I was too harsh earlier. It came out all wrong. I didn’t mean to call you pathetic.”

George laughed, but it didn’t come across as uncaring as he meant. The tragedy weighed down his voice, weight down his shoulders. “You weren’t wrong. That’s the thing,” he shrugged, unable to meet Sapnap’s eyes. Maybe if he wasn’t so fucked, he would have been mortified.

“No,” Sapnap objected, gripping onto George’s hands with his own blood stained and cracked fingers. “You’re _not_. I get it. I do. But you’re not pathetic, George. I think you’re just scared.” His throat bobbed as he looked up, meeting Sapnap’s eyes. And he wondered how ruined he looked, how upset and tortured he must seem, if the man who had a broken nose was looking at him sympathetically.

“If you don’t want to tell him, don’t tell him,” Sapnap said, lacing his fingers with George’s. The blood intertwined their knuckles, slick and heavy and crimson.

“It’s just too much,” George breathed, like a coward. He was a coward.

“You’re not too much, George,” Sapnap said, and he sounded so honest, too honest, that George was terrified he would start believing his words. “You’re…you’re a good person, George. And you deserve to be seen and heard and adored too.”

He shuddered, slowly pulling his hands away from Sapnap’s. He didn’t know what to say, golden eyes painted across the back of his own, tanned fingers buried in between his own bones.

“Do you think he knows?” George asked, his own voice sounding painfully faraway. Sapnap shook his head, brushing a strand of hair from his face.

“No,” he said, and the kindness in his voice almost took George out. “I don’t think he does.”


	3. Horizon's my Target

George missed his horse. Admittedly, he mostly missed not having to walk everywhere. Especially because for every step Dream and Sapnap took, chattering away like their legs weren’t also moulded from muscle and flesh and arteries like George’s, he had to take at least two.

His cheeks were flushed with red, his hair curling at the back of his neck as he followed after his two friends. It had been two weeks since they’d left the inn, and a week since they’d sold their horses away. Scowling to himself when his hand slipped, the rock face crumbling away, George wondered if he would’ve agreed to coming if Dream had told him they would be scaling mountains.

But as he corrected his footing, absolutely refusing to look down, less he pass out and have his body tumble to the ground beneath, he glanced upwards. He watched as Dream hauled himself up effortlessly, muscles straining and short hair sticking up from the constant howl of the wind. Groaning, he lightly hit his head against the cliff face, shame coating his skin as his mouth went dry.

After a moment of heavy breathing and wanting to die just a little bit, George continued on. He ignored the protest of his limbs, gritting his teeth as his fingers gripped onto the sharp edges of the mountain.

He figured he’d be the last to reach the spot they’d pointed out hours ago, standing at the bottom of the mountain, George letting Dream’s insane optimism trick his brain into telling him it wouldn’t be that hard to climb. He hadn't figured that Dream would be waiting for him, crouched down and grinning, teeth and dimples on full display.

“C’mon,” Dream said when George huffed through his nose, whole body straining pitifully. His throat bobbed as Dream extended a hand, wriggling tanned fingers in his face. George didn’t like to be touched by Dream. It was a strange dislike, just like his overwhelming, glorious _like_ for Dream was strange. He didn’t like Dream touching him because he craved it too much. He wanted Dream to hold him so tight he wouldn’t break. He wanted it so much he thought it would be what killed him.

But the rucksack felt like it was snapping all the bones in his back at once, and he really couldn’t feel his feet anymore, so he silently cursed himself and the god who had landed him in this position and gripped onto Dream’s hand.

The younger boy helped pull him up over the edge, chuckling when George merely rolled over onto his back when he was sure he was far enough from the ledge. “Shut the hell up,” he hissed, narrowing his eyes. Dream widened his eyes, holding his hands up in mock innocence.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Didn’t have to,” George grumbled, rolling his eyes before he sat up, dropping his legs into a basket in front of him as he undid the heavy bag strapped to his back, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I can see it!” He glanced up as Sapnap’s voice cried out in excitement, watching in amusement as Sapnap tried to run towards them, repeatedly tripping over his own feet but still grinning like an idiot. “It’s right up there,” Sap panted, wildly gesturing into some vague direction before he dropped down beside George with a sigh.

“Thought we’d lost you there, Georgie.”

“Wish we’d lost you years ago,” George shot back, trying to hide his smile as Sapnap pouted sardonically, hand to his chest as he wiped invisible tears from his eyes with the other.

“You wound me, George.”

“How far away did it seem, Sap?” Dream asked, breaking George and Sapnap out of their bickering. The blond was still standing, as if they hadn’t just scaled a mountain for hours on end, rolling on the balls of his feet as he peered into the distance.

“Like an hour. Still a bit of a peak to climb,” Sap shrugged as he pulled an apple out from his own bag and started chewing obnoxiously loud. When George glared at him, he just crinkled his nose at the other boy.

“Who the hell builds a portal to another dimension on the top of a goddamn mountain,” George sighed, watching as Dream turned back to face them, biting the inside of his cheek. He felt the tip of his ears prick with red, glancing furiously down at the ground instead of focusing on the way Dream’s eyes went all glassy when he was lost in thought.

“They’re not meant to be easy to find,” Dream said, and George only looked at him once he sat down beside Sapnap. He smiled when Sapnap turned to their friend, eyes all wide and pleading as he shook out his head, strands of his ruined and messy braids falling in his face.

Dream sighed, nodding begrudgingly as he gestured for Sapnap to turn around. Grinning, Sap went back to chewing on his apple as Dream undid his hair for him, shaking it out with long fingers before he started parting it. _His sisters made him learn_ , had been Dream’s reasoning, when he had first plaited Sapnap’s hair years ago. He’d done it as a joke, just so they could see what it would look like. But now every time they trained, or it was too hot, or they found themselves climbing a mountain searching for a Nether portal to kill the Ender Dragon, Sapnap would turn to Dream with the same look on his face.

George let the other boys speak while he lay down on his back, watching the clouds drift by sleepily, resting his head on his arms. And when he sat up, rolling his stiff shoulders, he stayed content with listening to them talk about their grand plans for the future. He rest his head on his knees, smile hidden by his arms as Dream finished Sapnap’s hair, flicking the dark-haired boy on the temple once he finished.

They helped each other get the bags back on their backs, Sapnap groaning in a mix of annoyance and discomfort as George dropped his onto his shoulder blades, having to reach up onto his toes to reach. “ _Sorry_ ,” he hummed, sounding completely unapologetic as he grinned at a scowling Sap.

But then Dream was strapping George in, and he felt like his body might give out, silently regretting mocking Sapnap as his pride wouldn't let him audibly complain. “Sorry,” Dream shrugged sheepishly when George turned to face him, brows lowered. And the way Dream said it, the complete omission of amusement, just genuine empathy, made George’s chest do things he didn’t like.

So, he just nodded tightly, throwing Dream a strained smile and started heading off, chasing after Sapnap, catching his arm in a lock. Sap just grinned down at George, fresh braids swaying in the unforgiving wind as he tugged George closer to him, giggling when he stumbled slightly. He tried to pull away in retaliation, but Sap has latched onto George’s arm now, and he was infinitely stronger than George, so the older gave up after a moment, letting Sapnap practically drag him along.

When he realised Dream hadn’t caught up yet, he glanced over his shoulder, tilting his head. Dream was a bit behind them, watching George and Sapnap with an odd, and slightly pained expression. He arched a brow in silent question, and he was grateful for the way Dream could seemingly constantly pick up on what he was thinking, because the blond just shook his head lightly, offering George a small but genuine smile.

He felt something painfully twist in him as he smiled back, faltering as he faced forward again. Shaking it off, he looked up to Sapnap, choosing to focus instead on his friend’s singing instead of the burning feeling in his stomach.

It did take about an hour to reach the portal, and the three of them stood in front of it, each looking a different kind of terrified. Sapnap grabbed onto George’s hand, and he didn’t even snatch it back, too concerned with the massive obsidian frame in front of him. When he did glance to the side, he saw that Sapnap was also clutching Dream’s hand, and the blond was just gazing up at the portal in raw awe, like he’d never seen something quite as beautiful.

“We need to light it,” Dream breathed, looking at Sapnap and George like it physically pains him to tear his gaze away from the impeding black portal in front of them. The snow seemed to recoil from its touch, as while the three boys found themselves standing knee deep in snow, at the peak of a mountain so high if George thought about where he was, he might puke, there was no white near the portal’s edge.

“I can do it,” Sapnap nodded, and George found himself glancing down at his now empty hand as Sap rifled in his pockets for his trusty flint and steel. He went to hold it against his chest, uncertainty and regret and panic all clambering up his throat in an ugly mix as Sapnap pulled out his flint with a hum of satisfaction.

Holding his breath, he watched as his friend slowly crossed over to the portal, metal scraping a few times before it caught alight. He bit down on his bottom lip, not even realising metal was coating his tongue until something lightly threading itself into his hand pulled him out of the murky waters in his own head.

He glanced up to meet pale, yellow eyes, smiling down at him. He didn’t speak, only clutched Dream’s hand tighter when Sapnap lit the portal, and a transparent veil of swirling purple flickered to fill the frame. His lips parted in astonishment, watching as Sapnap let out a laugh of disbelief. Beside him, Dream had gone still, yellow eyes burning with something George recognised as Dream’s intense desire for adventure, his sweltering need to be something.

Sapnap barely hesitated, only looking back at George and Sapnap once, before he was stepping into the portal. His boots hit against the black stone with a thud, and the purple licked its way over his entire body, Sapnap’s eyes darting around before he vanished. George gasped, fear once again embodying himself, unable to push away the sheer panic of his friend just disappearing in front of his eyes, before he felt a light tug.

Blinking up, dark eyes met yellow, and he let Dream lead him to the portal. He didn’t speak as he stepped up into it, just concentrated on the feeling of Dream’s heavy hand in his own, the feeling of his skin against his skin. He wanted for it to stay there forever, to die with Dream’s fingers intertwined within his own. What would Dream do if he told him, right there, as the portal started to claim their bodies as its own? Would he reach out with his other hand, would he recoil in disgust?

George didn’t get the chance to see before the swirls of colour melted into his skin, and a sudden heat hit his body. Wincing, he stumbled forward, eyes watering and clouded over as he desperately tried to see. Dream’s hand dropped from his as he stepped out of the portal, eyes suddenly clearing just in time to see another goddamn cliffside, this time with an ocean of lava, bubbling and starving beneath it.

Something caught him around the waist, pulling him away from the edge, and he coughed, the heat choking him. He grimaced up at Sapnap as his friend dropped him down onto his own feet. “I almost went right fucking over,” Sap commented, voice sounding heavier than it normally did as he gestured to the sea of lava.

All George could do was nod as Dream came up beside them, the air too thick in his throat, nose body. His jumper was sticking to his skin, and he experimentally waved his arms through the air, eyes widening as the moved slowly, like he was trapped underwater, or dropped into a pool of honey.

“Holy shit,” he breathed as he spun around, laughing as his eyes fell onto blue grass. Blue fucking grass! “Is this really _blue_?” he asked as he tried to run towards it, limbs still feeling stiff and unusual as he ran his fingers down the tall, lanky trees. The branches bare bar the long, smooth vines that fell right down to the ground.

“Yeah,” Dream nodded as him and Sapnap followed him through the forest. “It’s really blue, Georgie.” The ground beneath his feet was soft, but still burning hot, and if he didn’t keep moving, the soles of his feet were kissed with heat through his boots. He was so memorised by the sprawling hellscape in front of him that the way Dream’s voice softened as he watched George didn’t even register in his mind.

“How the hell are we supposed to find the fortress in here again?” Sapnap murmured, and even though it sounded like he was probably just speaking to himself, mumbling moans as Sapnap liked to do, Dream responded easily, face bright as his pale eyes wandered. He looked like he was unable to take it all in, and George wondered if his face was hurting from grinning so widely.

“We just keep walking until we find it,” Dream said simply, as if that sounded simple in any way, and George saw Sapnap’s eyes narrow, clearly irritated Dream hadn’t mentioned this part of the plan before. He opened his mouth to speak, tugging a braid in his fingers, when they crossed over a hill, and a massive structure, built towering over the sea of flames, interrupted them.

“Well,” Sapnap snorted. “That was easy.”

George had heard stories of the Nether before. Of men who fell, breathing in flames as the lava claimed their bodies. Of beasts, half man and half hog, obsessed with gold, violent and aggressive, tearing adventurer’s throats out with their tusks. Of fortresses, endless and dangerous. Claiming people’s souls as soon as they stepped over the bricks, never for them to leave.

But if he was being honest with himself, as the echoes of three pairs of boots hit against long corridors, it really just seemed like one big maze. They took endless turns down hallways that all look identical, and George found himself drifting closer to Dream with each step. He told himself it was because he couldn’t stand the sound of Sapnap’s blade scraping against the wall, the younger boy claiming it was so they could find their way back out after they found the blaze powder they needed.

He told himself it wasn’t because although he might literally have been in hell, a barren wasteland that breathed fire, he had been craving the familiar warmth that radiated from the blond.

Occasional groans and wheezes passed through the air, and even though they must have been walking for at least an hour, George found himself flinching every time an ear-splitting scream sounded from outside the fortress, or when something flaming shot past the barred windows.

He tried to ignore the shadows that caught the side of his eyes, turning his head to catch something that vaguely resembled a skeleton, just before Dream was hurrying him forward. Shaking his head out, he told himself his mind was playing tricks on him, ignoring the dark pools of nothingness he thought he’d seen in the creatures’ skulls.

They found a staircase, and if Sapnap hadn’t pointed it out, George wondered if he would’ve even noticed. It was made of the same material as the rest of the building, and he found himself squinting as he took small, experimental steps of the rest of the stairs. Dream and Sapnap were still fussing beneath him, trying to collect as much Nether wart as they could, wincing and grimacing each time either of them tore the slimy mushrooms out of the soil.

George left them to themselves as he continued up the stairs, liking the sound his boots made against the brick. When he realised he’d already reached the next floor, he was met with a blade slashing for his face. He ducked quickly, swearing under his breath as the skeleton towered over him, bones like charcoal, ash falling from its body.

He yelled out in warning to his friends below, unsheathing his sword as he dodged the constant attacks from the skeleton advancing on him. Catching his breath, he darted across the room, boots hitting against the floor with purpose, and he led the skeleton over to him, snarling and spitting as it manically waved its sword towards him.

George was vaguely aware of someone shouting out his name, laced in panic and terror, but he was too concentrated on the skeleton trying to slit his throat open to respond. Holding his breath, he leapt up to the edge of the wide balcony, ignoring the exposed sea beneath him as he kicked off. Flying through the air, he turned, bringing his sword down with a hasty hum. The skeleton’s skull flew through the air, and as he landed, George brought his foot up and kicked with all the strength he had, the skeleton’s headless mass of bones stumbling backwards and tripping over the edge. George glanced over as he watched it tumble into the lava below.

“George!” He turned to see Dream and Sapnap sprinting towards him, grabbing onto his arms as they checked over him, worry painting both their faces. Before he could even say he was fine, that he wasn’t hurt, they were both pulling him into a tight hug, Dream dropping his chin onto his head, and Sapnap burying his face in George’s neck.

“Don’t pull anything like that again,” Sapnap murmured in relief when they pulled back, Dream still cautiously holding onto George’s arms like he thought the older boy might burst into flames at any point. If it wasn’t for the absolute fear on his friend’s face, he might’ve made a joke, might’ve rolled his eyes. But guilt at being the person to cause Dream’s eyes to look that sad, unfurled in his chest, so he just smiled up at his two friends and nodded sheepishly.

It didn’t take them long after that to find the blazes they needed. The balcony was teeming with the floating monsters, and as soon as they noticed the three boys, they started hissing, spitting out fire. The three of them scattered, darting out in different directions as they dodged the flames hurtling straight for them.

Sapnap took the first swing, and George watched, lips parted in half awe, half terror, as his friend sprinted towards the blazes, blade dancing through the air. It wasn't long before Dream was joining him, and the two of them were roaring with unsuppressed glee as they took on the hellish things, the smell of burning metal filling George’s nose.

He shook his head before he pushed himself back onto his feet, joining them both with a grin of his own, sword weaving as they slashed and stabbed until they had enough golden rods to create the Ender pearls they need. Sapnap and George handed the ones they had gathered to Dream, who quickly folded them all up with a piece of spare fabric, tightening the string around it with his teeth.

Once he slid it into the bag on his back, the three of them started off back towards the portal. Before they even made it a couple feet from the balcony, a massive, white wraithlike thing appeared in the air. George froze, and he could feel Sapnap and Dream still beside him, all three of them holding their breath, waiting to see what the thing in the air did.

Apparently, it also spat fire too.

They topple off in a desperate run over the endless balconies, George and Sapnap following after Dream, mimicking every move he did as the thing behind them screamed and wailed like something out of a nightmare. George bit down on his lip every time Dream jumped across a gap, the lava below them hissing and popping. He barely made each jump, shorter and weaker than his two friends as they hoisted themselves from wall to wall, leaping over fences as they came.

And as George watched his friends fly through the air, soaring over gaps, he forgot to watch himself. When they came to the next gap, wider than the rest of them had been, George stumbled, the brick below his boot crumbling. Eyes widening, he reached out for the ledge, heart thudding as he realised, he wasn’t going to reach. He was going to fall.

Everything slowed down, and as he fell through the air, it felt like he was drowning. Everything around him blurred, the endless walls of the fortress and the hissing lava morphing into distorted colours around him. The only thing he could focus on was the sharp beating of his own heart, and his pathetic outstretched hand.

He watched, trapped in his own falling body, as Dream turned, alarm flashing over his face. He wanted to speak, to say something, to say anything, as he heard Sapnap screaming out his name for the second time that day. Breathing hitched, George found himself screaming too. But not because he was tumbling through the air like a rock, headed right for a deep, ceaseless ocean of burning hellfire, but because Dream was now also falling, having just kicked himself off of the wall. On purpose. Dream had jumped off on purpose. Now they were both going to die, and they had abandoned Sapnap in the Nether.

Mindless terror gripped onto George’s bones as Dream reached out, tanned fingers gripping onto George’s sweater, damp with sweat. He wanted to sob at the desperation that was written across Dream’s furrowed brows, wide eyes, in the way he held onto George so tightly he could feel Dream’s heart thudding horribly against his own chest.

Now they were plummeting faster, with the weight of two boys carrying two bags full of supplies. George screwed his eyes shut, waiting for the impact of the lava against his body, and just held onto Dream in the way that he’d never let himself before.

But the heat never came, and suddenly an awful feeling of dissociation grabbed a hold of George’s limbs. His eyes flashed open, and he held on tighter to Dream as he realised what was happening. They were still falling, but now they were heading towards the fortress brick instead of lava. Legs intertwining, George only looked into Dream’s eyes before they fell, both groaning in agony as they hit the ground.

Relief soaked into him, and George just let himself go completely limp on Dream’s body. The other boy dropped his head against the ground, one hand still fisted into the back George’s jumper, the other on the back of his head, breathing slowly.

He was vaguely aware of Sapnap speaking, but his words were low and drawled out in George’s ears. He was also aware of Dream replying, fingers slowly, almost painfully slowly, carding through George’s hair as his voice trembled through George’s ear that was pressed against his chest.

“That was our only Ender pearl, Dream.”

“Would you have preferred the other option in that situation, Sapnap?”

Head screaming, limbs loose and skin pricking uncomfortably with heat, George reluctantly pushed himself off of Dream, blinking up as Sapnap helped him up to his feet. “If you try to get yourself killed one more time today, George,” Sapnap said, braids falling in his face as he shook his head. “I’ll end you myself,” he sighed, but he squeezed George’s hand tightly, holding for a heavy second before he let go and went to help Dream. George didn’t speak.

He felt raw. Half-eaten and undone.

He didn’t speak as he trailed after George and Sapnap. They’d thankfully lost the monster in the sky who had been chasing them, but George’s heart still rattled uncomfortably against his ribcage as he walked. Fingers strangled with white, George didn’t let go off the hilt of his sword until he had taken his last step on dark brick.

And even then, he did not take in the whimsical blue forest like before, keeping his eyes firmly trained forward. He was tired. He couldn’t catch onto any of his painful thoughts, and all he wanted to do was lay his head in Dream’s lap, feel his hand on his head and stay that way for the rest of his life. But he couldn’t do that, so he forced his legs to keep moving, ignoring the glances Dream kept sending his way.

He didn’t speak as they stepped through the portal, a frustrating and awful blurriness building up in his throat. He didn’t speak as they walked back down the mountainside, snow crunching under his boots. He didn’t speak when Sapnap demanded they stop for the night, finding a clearing where they could pitch their tent. He didn’t speak as his fingers curled around the hammer, gritting his teeth as he bashed the pegs into the hard ground.

He didn’t speak until Sap offered to take the first watch, and he was lying on his back, staring up at the canvas flecked with dirt hanging above him. He could see the moon through the fabric, and he let his eyes wander over the canvas, refusing to glance at the boy lying down beside him. Scared of the match inside of him that he knew would Dream’s saturated eyes would light.

There was nothing more humiliating that his own desires to him. As he lay there, hands folded on his stomach, glaring up at the moon like it had personally offended him, shame swallowed him whole. And he couldn’t bare it anymore, the not knowing, the not understanding, the itchiness that spread across his whole body.

And so, he tilted his head to the side, sighing when he was met with Dream’s sharp gaze pinned directly on him. And he hated the way Dream and Dream’s eyes, Dream’s upturned nose and Dream’s lips and Dream’s dimples and ankles and wrists and neck that were paler than the rest of him made him feel. Because it was the whole feeling that deranged George. It stripped him entirely bare.

Especially as he lay beside Dream, noses almost touching they were so close.

“Why did you ask me to come?” he asked, throat bobbing when Dream blinked down at him.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Dream breathed, and George could feel his breath on his face. He glanced away, but didn’t move his head, chewing on his bottom lip.

“I keep fucking up. I’m too slow and can’t carry as much as you or Sap. You almost died saving my life today,” he pointed out, eyes flicking back up to meet yellow flecked with grey.

“I still haven’t got a thank you for that, by the way,” Dream mused. His voice was deep and warm, and George drank it in like sweet wine.

“Thank you,” he murmured softly, and he thought for a moment that the absolute, encompassing terror he had felt as he had plummeted was maybe worth it, just for the way Dream’s smile tilted in affection.

“George, you’re not a burden,” Dream said after a moment of silence. “I asked you to come because I can’t really be without you, y’know?” He did know. Dream nodded when George nodded, shuffling around as he put one of his arms under his head. “You’re my person, George.”

Lips parting, George glanced over at Dream when he said that. But the taller boy had already shut his eyes, nestling into his own arm. George lay completely still for a moment, terrified to even breathe, before he reached down. And entangled Dream’s free hand with his own.

He’d barely known he'd had skin before he’d met Dream, before his whole body started to crackle in light whenever his skin brushed against Dream’s. He was dangling on a leash of his own longing, and as Dream’s lips quirked into a silent smile, George wondered how long until it snapped. He wondered if it could ever snap, or if it was just a constant, endless thread, forever tying George’s entire being to Dream’s, no matter where either of them went. No matter if Dream married the girl across the sea. No matter if George’s body was eaten by lava.

George’s love for him was without end.

He considered speaking, but as the weightless hand in his tightened its grip, George closed his own eyes too. The graveyard in his mouth blossomed, overflowing with words that had died on his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments make me :D


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